❛ YOU ARE NOT WEAK; YOU ARE THE STRONGEST I'VE EVER KNOWN ❜
The tragedy of Augustus Moore as he escapes the battle but fails to outrun the war that is Jasper Whitlock.
[ jasper hale x male oc ]
[ the twilight saga: eclipse - breaking dawn ]
[ the...
❛ and do you really trust your tongue or did you bury the taste? ❜
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THERE COMES TIMES IN LIVING THAT TRANSFORM US, and all we can do is decide how it changes our perspective. Grief is absolute, unchanging, biting and excruciating. It tears into your pores, skinning you from within, twisting your rib cages and veins to the beat of its jocund drum. It festers inside you, scraping your muscle and joints, making room for the burning infection. It spreads its poison, teeth grinding in anticipation at your untimely paralysis.
Augustus Moore long abandoned the courage it took to exit his catatonic state, to meet his temperamental paroxysm head on. For in these profound moments of struggle, he dwelled in the black hole tears of his subconscious. Every strike, every jab - his body rebounded and countered with a hunger to protect. Augustus long fought the urge to dig his talons into his brain and scrape. To mash the matter between his knuckles and joints. What more can you do when your own body betrays you?
Why are you connected to Jasper Whitlock?
The miasma of blood envy and rain slick battlefields always grew more suffocating than the char of his throat. He could control the locking of his jaw and rivets of venom congesting on his tongue, but Jasper managed to usurp the throne and monopolise all his thoughts.
"Every God has his favourite soldier." Augustus mused, eyes cataloguing the intricate movements of the immortals in front of him. Everyone had a role to play in the scheme of all wicked things. Whether it be a finger on the trigger, owning hands coated in thick acts of vice - prioritised for crushing larynx's or pushing shiny figurines on makeshift battle fields with filth streaked faces and freshly shined boots. More importantly, the virulent attack on one's subliminal self, coaxing them from their body's natural defence while scar harassed hands dislodged your head from your shoulders. His entire psyche was merely an extension for Jasper Whitlock to manipulate on his self indulged odyssey to Maria's ratification.
The bronzed haired young man's lips twist into an unimpressed line. He pinned Augustus with a disappointed look. "He's not here. Your Major."
The venom in his conviction rolled over Augustus, leaving him sizzling in anticipation. He remembered being blindly loyal to a man wrapped up in a promising, glorious purpose. The expression didn't suit the youth in front of him, it seemed misplaced, almost fabricated. There was no weight behind the words that hung in the air between them, tantalising and promising no real consequence. However, the strain was evident.
"I am not here for my Major." Augustus sneered coolly, "I pose no threat. I was until recently merely passing through. I have no premeditated purpose." The threat rang clear in the air, 'I'm not a threat unless you make me'
